by Dannika Dark
“Mmmm.” I unabashedly moaned and cried out, over and over, gripping the sides of the dresser.
Jericho touched my lower belly, and his thumb stroked my sex masterfully while the other hand squeezed my breast. I felt a pinch here, a swirl there, a squeeze, and then he went faster. Our first time together, we’d made love. But this was animalistic.
Primal.
“Harder!” I screamed.
Jericho lifted my legs straight up in the air and rested them on his shoulders, changing how I felt everything.
“Oh, like that,” I breathed, wanting this to last forever.
“I can’t stop,” he panted. “Tell me to stop.”
“Don’t stop!”
“Please, Isabelle… Tell me to stop. I’m going to come… Oh fuck, tell me to stop.”
I cried out as a wave of heat engulfed me and pleasure squeezed me so tight my entire body locked up. I raised my hips off the surface. “Don’t stop. Faster, Jericho. Harder,” I begged, seeking my release. I couldn’t even formulate words anymore—I was so consumed by our passion.
He complied, as if his body were going against his will. The dresser made an awful complaint as the drawers shook and more cans fell off.
I bent my knees and lowered my legs, wrapping them tightly around his waist. Beads of sweat touched his brow, and his lips were swollen as he looked at me like a hungry animal. Jericho collapsed on top of me, and as soon as our bodies made contact, I arched my back and the most intense wave of pleasure struck me as I came.
So did he, and our duet of cries sounded better than any damn song he’d ever written.
Jericho tried to pull out, and when I wrapped my arms and legs around him, his eyes hardened like steel. He reached around and gripped a fistful of my hair, kissing me hard and thrusting as deep as he could. I gasped against his mouth. With that one gesture, he claimed me.
My body shuddered one last time before every craving and ache dissipated, as if it never was. So this is what it felt like to be sated by a man during heat? Hell’s bells. Now I understood with perfect clarity why women sought a mate. Usually when I was by myself, the craving still lingered.
Jericho stood up, and the cool air tightened my nipples. I’d never been more uncomfortable in all my life. I also hoped the next people who stayed in this room didn’t put their sandwiches on this dresser.
“I can’t do this, Isabelle,” he said out of breath.
“Do what?”
He raked his fingers through his stringy brown hair. “This… Whatever this is. It’s not right. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you. This isn’t how I wanted…”
I blinked a few times and covered my chest. My body felt glued to the wood and it was a Herculean effort to push myself up. I blinked in surprise as Jericho turned around, picking up my oversized white tank top and putting it on.
He folded up the Pink Floyd shirt and stood in front of me, tilting my chin up. “Sexybelle,” he whispered. His eyes studied the shape of my mouth, and then he handed me the shirt. “Put this on for me.”
“Why?”
A sexy grin slid up his face. “So I can take it off again.”
“No.”
His brows knitted. “Why don’t you want to wear this shirt?”
It wasn’t mine anymore.
He wasn’t mine.
His callused fingers stroked along my cheek and he dipped his head low, searching my eyes. “I love you, baby.”
The silence made me feel like the worst kind of villain. Now that all my carnal fire had been extinguished, my brain was starting to kick back into gear, and it always seemed to be in conflict with my heart.
He stroked my cheeks with his thumbs and admired me from the top of my head down to my thighs. “You’re the most beautiful song I’ve ever written.”
“You mean ridden?”
An irritated look flashed in his eyes. “You’re not one of those girls. I want to give you something, but I don’t know if you want it.”
His cheeks flushed, and he bit down on his lower lip. I’d never seen him look so… nervous.
“I don’t know how I feel, Jericho. Not after the other night.”
“What you saw at the house—that wasn’t what you think. I was—”
“I know. You don’t have to explain. She drugged you and it wasn’t your fault. I just got confused all over again. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Maybe it’s time that you and your wolf start making agreements. I know what your animal wants, Isabelle. It’s you who keeps doubting. You had a good reason to run away from home; no one should treat their sister that way. You ran away from me all those years ago and had good reason; no one should treat a friend that way. But hell, I’m asking you not to run this time. I want to show you how you deserve to be treated.”
I swallowed thickly and looked away.
“My pack won’t treat you like that, Isabelle. I know why you’re scared.”
I brushed my hair away from my face. “Then you can’t ask me to do this. You can’t expect me to not be terrified of something I’ve never known before—afraid that I could trust you and…”
He cupped my cheeks and kissed me softly on the mouth. “I’m not pushing you, because I know it’ll make you run again. I’m not Hawk—I don’t have any dark secrets that I’m keeping from you. Maybe I have secrets, but they’re not the kind that will tear us apart, and I want to share them with you.”
“Yeah? What’s one of your secrets?” I asked in disbelief. Jericho had a dark past, but he wasn’t a dark person.
He leaned in tight. “That I’m going to hunt down the man who tried to drown you and end his life.”
“You’ll never find him. It was dark. Even Wheeler didn’t get a good look.”
“Yeah, he did.”
My brows popped up. “Say again?”
He tipped his head to the side. “Delgado sent a man to collect the goods from Reno and Wheeler. He made the fatal mistake of making a snide remark to Wheeler about how he should have just cut your throat and slaughtered you like a pig. Wheeler tracked him down, and I have his address burned into my memory.”
“You wouldn’t.”
But yes, he would. Never mess with a Shifter whose wolf thirsts for blood.
“You can’t do that, Jericho. They’ll put you in Breed jail for killing a human.”
He licked his lips, and darkness pulsed in his eyes. “As it turns out, he’s not human.”
I covered my face and shook my head. “This has just been a crazy month. I’m sitting naked on top of a dresser in a sleazy motel, having a deep conversation with a guy I’ve spent the last twenty years thinking was in a grave. All these old ghosts are coming back, my ex turned out to be a psychopathic maniac, I had thugs tracking me down, almost died in a hot tub, I’m eating soup out of a plastic container, and I walked in on you passed out with a naked woman. I know it wasn’t your fault; I’m just so confused. And it doesn’t help that I’m in heat!”
Jericho laughed sexily and smoothed out my hair so that it covered my breasts. “Have you ever told someone that you loved them?”
“The guy at 7-Eleven who bought me a donut when I was fifty cents short.”
“I’m serious.”
I shrugged. “It was a good donut.”
Jericho’s lips twitched. He gently touched my shoulders as if we were having an ordinary conversation anywhere. But we weren’t. I had my coochie on display while Jericho was swinging in the breeze. He licked his lips, and a smile crossed his expression. “I’ve got an idea. You with me?”
I nodded.
“All right. Here’s the deal. You go through this heat thing…”
“Easy for you to say.”
He shushed me with a finger pressed to my lips. “You get through this cycle and then go back to work.”
“If Jake hasn’t fired me.”
“Don’t sweat it,” he said in a deep voice. “He’s cool, just a bottom-line kind of guy. You’ll have your job, and I�
��ll go back to playing my shows.”
“So that’s it? That’s your plan? Go back to what we were doing?”
“No more women.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Say again?”
“I’ll give you time, baby, because that’s what you need. But guess what? I’m not letting you slip through my fingers again. I’m putting my claim on you, and that means if anyone messes with you, then he’ll answer to me. Maybe I can’t call you my girl just yet, but I’m going to look after you. I’m going to make you smile and dance at the donut shop with your bad self. We’re going to be best friends again, so that means we hang out and watch movies like we used to do. What we have ain’t just about the sex, and damn, the sex is off the charts. It’s about the spark, like you’re the melody and I’m the words.” His voice fell to a soft whisper. “You don’t have to tell me you love me—just put on this shirt.” He handed me the Pink Floyd shirt, and I put it on my lap. “When you decide to wear it, then I’ll know.”
“Know what?”
He leaned forward and his luscious lips met with mine, easing into a deep kiss. His tongue filled my mouth, and his kiss was so hot that I expired right then and there.
Jericho’s kiss abruptly ended, and he pulled me in with a magnetic gaze to answer my question. “I’ll know when I see you in that shirt again that you love me.”
Chapter 26
Leaving Isabelle alone in that motel room was a testament to his strength, but Jericho reluctantly did the right thing. A woman going through heat wasn’t in her right frame of mind, and expecting her to work out relationship stuff was unrealistic.
Especially after having hot, delicious sex on a dresser. Man, it was even better than the first time. Not just because of how blissfully good her sweet apple pie was—it had everything to do with the way she watched him with hooded eyes. The way she lay down for him, how creamy her skin looked against his tanned hands, her red hair splayed across the wood, and the sensual feel of her thighs wrapped around his waist. It was abso-fucking-amazing. Enough to make his wolf howl.
Turns out, he’d spent an hour in her motel room. Didn’t seem like it, but Denver had taken off by the time Jericho made it to the parking lot. So he began walking and gave Joker a call to let him know he wasn’t going to make the show.
“We can’t cancel, man. Where the fuck are you?”
“Send Trev into the lion’s pit,” Jericho suggested.
“You want him to take your place?”
“Make it or break it time. Unless you wanna sing.”
“Hell no.”
Jericho hung up the phone, and his mind drifted back to Isabelle. As tempting as it was to go back, he wasn’t about to start up a relationship based on sex with the one woman who mattered to him. Then again, it was too late for that.
He kicked a beer can and realized he was strolling down the street wearing a woman’s tank top and a thin sheen of sex sweat on his face.
“I didn’t know you were turning tricks,” a voice said from a car on his left. Jericho glanced at the vintage Camaro as Wheeler leaned over to the passenger side. “Get in, sweetheart,” he said with a dark chuckle.
Jericho opened the door and sank into the seat. “How the hell did you find me?”
“Denver. He’s pissed off. Guess he thought he was getting some tail going out with the rock star.”
That made Jericho feel like shit, but Denver would get over it. He was insufferably picky, and chances are he wouldn’t have hooked up with a girl anyhow.
Wheeler rubbed his nose. “You smell like sex.”
“You smell like peanuts.”
A bag appeared in front of Jericho’s face, pinched between Wheeler’s fingers. “Take some. I bought the unsalted ones by accident.”
“I can sweat on them if you like,” he suggested, pushing the bag away. “I called Joker about tonight’s show—Trevor’s going in my place.”
“That what you’re upset about?”
Jericho fumbled through the glove compartment and swept his hand beneath the seat. “You got any smokes in here?”
“No smoking in my car. ’Preciate ya.”
Wheeler reached into a bag between the seats and grabbed a flat stick of beef jerky, which he immediately began gnawing on.
“Way to perpetuate the stereotype,” Jericho said. “Want a dog biscuit when you’re done to freshen your breath?”
“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, still chewing.
Jericho noticed Wheeler had grown some stubble along his jaw. He reached out and poked Wheeler’s cheek, only to get a retaliatory punch in his chest. “You should let it all grow in instead of that scruff around your chin. Or shave it all off. Women like men who are decisive. Your facial hair looks like it’s having an identity crisis.”
Wheeler slanted his eyes at Jericho’s ensemble. “You buy that shirt on clearance in the misses department, sweetheart?”
“Don’t be an asshat. Where are we going?”
“Had a thought running in my head. You know that prick who played bobbing for apples with your girl? It just so happens he’s at home. Reno’s been scoping out his place the last couple of days, and he sticks to a routine. He’s a Shifter—that much we verified—but I don’t know what his animal is. All I know is he owns a damn cat.”
All humor evaporated from their banter. A wave of fury rolled through Jericho as his wolf snarled and snapped from within, demanding to be uncaged.
“Feel like paying him an unexpected visit?” Wheeler suggested. The motor thrummed an answer as the car increased in speed.
***
Wheeler shut off the headlights and the hot engine made tapping sounds.
“You sure he’s home?” Jericho asked. “It looks dark in there.”
“Maybe he went beddy-bye,” Wheeler said, rubbing the scruff on his chin. “Little pig, little pig, let us in.”
The houses were spread apart with a few acres of property surrounding each one. The dirtbag lived in a one-story brick that looked a few decades old. He didn’t have a garage, only a carport cover with a white car sheltered beneath. A few poisonous vines crawled up one of the live oaks to their right, and the driveway was cracked and narrow.
Jericho twisted off his rings. “Does he have a family?”
“What the hell kind of woman would mate with a guy like that? No, Reno did a check. He lives alone with a cat. I hate those damn things.”
The front door violently swung open, and a middle-aged man emerged with a shotgun in one hand, stalking toward their car. “You two had better get the fuck off my property!”
“And boom goes the dynamite,” Wheeler said, exiting the vehicle.
Jericho hopped out of the car and kept a steady pace ahead of Wheeler so this asshole knew who was gunning for him. The man had a shaved head and looked pretty seasoned for a Shifter. The small tattoo on his hand was nothing compared to the grotesque skull with black wings inked across his chest.
“You better step back and tell me your business before I blast a hole in your chest,” the man said.
“I’m Jericho, and you tried to snuff out my woman.”
He pursed his lips as if recalling a memory. “The redhead, huh?” He sized Jericho up with his beady eyes. “Are you what I think you are?”
“You mean badass?” Jericho took off his necklace with the ring on it and handed it to Wheeler. “Keep this.” Then he peeled off his tank top and approached the man. “Tell me your name.”
The man raised the shotgun and shifted his stance. “Shane. You plan on taking me out on a date now?” Shane belted out a villainous laugh.
“Put the gun down, and let’s settle this like men.”
“Why should I?”
“Because a Shifter with a gun is nothing but a pussy with a weak animal. Nobody messes with my girl and walks away alive.”
Shane’s thumb stroked the barrel of the gun, his gaze traveling between them. “How do I know your friend there isn’t going to join in?”
“I
’m not into threesomes,” Wheeler said. “What’s the matter, can’t hold your own?”
Jericho turned around. “Get in the car. Stay there, no matter what happens.”
“I’m not leaving you out here, baby bro.”
“Yeah, you are. Get in the damn car. This is my battle to fight, so the pack stays out.”
Wheeler stroked the hair on his chin, contemplating the request. “Fine. But you realize if something goes wrong, then brother or not, Austin will toss me out of the pack for watching it go down?”
“You two need a moment for good-bye kisses?” Shane asked.
Jericho inched in close and lowered his voice. “Look, Wheeler, we both know you love a good fight, but this one’s mine.”
“You don’t have official claim on Izzy.”
“I’ve had claim on that girl for decades. Just get in the car.”
Wheeler stalked toward the Camaro and got in, slamming the door and staring through the windshield as he moved his mouth, talking to himself.
Jericho turned to face his enemy. “Put down the gun and let’s do this.”
A crooked smile curved up Shane’s cheek as he put the safety back on the gun and set it on the ground. “Only one animal walks out alive, so feel free to put your tail between your legs and go back home. I don’t fight for honor or fun—I fight to kill.” He kicked off his motorcycle boots and unlatched his belt. “And by the way, I’m not a wolf.”
***
Wheeler gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. Maybe it was Jericho’s fight, but a pack fought together. Then again, what dignity would Jericho have if someone else won his battles? Wheeler didn’t understand the whole “fighting for love” bit, except it must have been some irrational instinct in their wolves that couldn’t be controlled. No woman was worth dying for, except his mother.
He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. Jericho approached Shane and must have been at least a foot taller than the man. Through the open window, a smoky scent hung in the air, as if someone had been burning trash. Threats turned into curses and the men circled each other, eyes alight and lips peeled back. Without warning, Jericho shifted. His wolf stood on top of a pile of clothes, teeth bared and body stiff, ready to attack.
